


To Be Alone

by PrettyMessedUpSituation (MarcelinesNightosphere)



Series: From Eden [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Comfort/Angst, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Harvelle's Roadhouse, Pool Table Sex, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/PrettyMessedUpSituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The djinn's dream world took it's toll on Dean. Stopping by the Roadhouse, he spends the night with his back to the wall and mind somewhere else. Nowhere good. Good thing Jo is looking out for him. Maybe they need to look after each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Based on "To Be Alone" by Hozier.  
> Takes place after 2x20 "What Is and What Should Never Be."

Ash had the music from the jukebox blaring. He had set up wireless speakers and placed them in every corner with individual controls, allowing him to blast his music at the pool table while leaving it at above-normal level at the bar and a maybe _still too loud to whisper_ at the tables.

The Roadhouse was packed. It was almost as if there had been a hunter reunion scheduled that they weren’t aware of. Ellen and Jo were managing everything pretty well. Despite the heavy crowd, most seemed to know how to behave themselves. Ellen had dragged a couple assholes who were getting handsy with a few of the girls out by their ears. Initially, they tried to argue with her, but one pump of a shotgun in the hands of Ellen Harvelle with her mom face on sent them packing.

After having dealt with the djinn, Dean was shaken - not that he would let anyone know that. Sam was off playing pool with Ash and a few others. It was good to see him having some down time, being normal. Dean sat alone at a table near the jukebox, back against the wall so he could observe. It was too crowded, too loud. Something felt so off inside of him. He’d never have a normal life. He’d never even get to taste what it was like to wake up in a home he could call his own, have someone worrying about him if he got up for a glass of water in the middle of the night, be able to go visit family or be able to give Sam the life he deserved. The feeling that no one could understand the shit stirring in his head and having no one to talk to about it ate at him until he was empty. He stared at the beer in front of him that kept refilling throughout the night. He watched the head bubble down and the condensation roll off the ice cold glass before he even touched it. After every trip back from the bathroom, he’d find it full again, ready to dull his thoughts and make him feel something and nothing, the coolness on his lips and the gaping void he’d never fill.

The crowd finally thinned out. Ash and Sam and long retired to his room in the back to research something or other. Ellen had closed the doors after shooing out the last of the drunks, but she left Dean in his corner with his beer, taking her leave of the place to get some much needed rest. She threw her towel over Jo’s shoulder and asked her to keep an eye on Dean, and make sure he found a place to sleep for the night. She didn’t want to see him in that seat slumped over the next afternoon.

Dean was still zoned in on the condensation running down the outside of his glass, this time inexplicably filled with water when Jo sat in front of him. She slammed three shots, turning the glasses over as she swallowed, and chased them with a beer.

“You doing okay?” she asked.

_Damn right, REO._ He smiled to himself at the memory and looked up at Jo. She didn’t deserve this kind of life. People like her and Sam, they deserved better. It was the only conclusion Dean could come to. He had no solution, he just knew they deserved so much better than the hand they were dealt. Jo’s eyes sparked back at him with interest despite her obviously being completely worn out from work. He should have helped instead of locking himself away in the corner of the bar, but he didn’t want to brush against Jo, have to talk to her, or let her in. When he was too close to her, he felt like a person. That hope was something he had to keep at arms length. He didn’t deserve to touch something so good, a girl who had crept into his thoughts and won him over completely with three words. _Damn right, REO._

The music continued on the jukebox behind her. He wanted to tell her to go to bed and leave him there - leave him to rot if she would - but another part of him took notice of her fingers drumming gently on the table, her eyes reading him as best as she could, her very presence pulling him back from the darkness he’d let himself fall into.

She asked him if he wanted to play pool, and with the forward movement of his body, water glass in hand, he assumed he was agreeing. Two glasses of water later he was finally not as drunk as to unwillingly let Jo beat him. His shots were straighter and his head clearer. He even felt himself smile. She turned the music off and killed the lights everywhere but over the pool table and set up the table for another round.

Dean returned from the bathroom to find his water refilled and the balls racked and ready. Jo looked like she was about to say something when the first few chords of a familiar song played. She laughed, and it sounded like bells ringing. Her pool cue turned into a microphone while she flipped her hair over her shoulder, mouthing the lyrics in Dean’s direction until he stepped up to her, setting aside the cue. Her smile faded at his touch, his palm stretching across the small of her back.

“Do you know what you do to me?” he asked. She shook her head in confusion. “You’re too good for me, Jo. You’re too...you don’t need to be bandaging me up and switching my beer for water when I’ve had too much. That’s not your job.”

“I know.” It wasn’t much, but it was all she could answer.

“You know how hard it is for me to be around you, knowing that I’ll just hurt you if we get too close?” Dean asked. “Honestly. Don’t you have enough bad stories that start with so the Winchesters...?”

“Will you stop treating me like I’m made of glass all the damn time? And...there are worse things that could happen to me than Winchesters.” She hung her head, fidgeting with the tips of her fingers.

Dean sat on the pool table. He wanted to pick up her hands, hold them to stop her fingers from working to distract her, but he didn’t know why it would help. His head hung low, mind drifting, he didn’t notice when she moved slowly closer until he felt her lips pressed quietly to his brow.

It tore Dean up inside to let her kiss him, but she was so gentle and loving that the desperate part of him begging for something good in his life started to win out over the worthlessness. Her lips barely glanced his skin. He wanted to let go, to let himself accept the affection being given to him. Jo lifted his chin and tried to read his face again in the low light over them, a song with dark and sultry sounds filling the room while she waited to see if Dean would push her away. With the kick of a bassline, Dean picked her up and sat her down on the pool table. He kissed her with urgency, his fingers tangling in her hair, a hand running over a body he’d sworn to himself that he would look and not touch. But she was right; she wasn't made of glass.

Lying together half naked on the pool table, he finally took her hand, fidgeting with her fingers so she didn't have to when their voices and bodies fell silent. He wasn’t alone with feeling trapped in his skin with no way out. Jo told him about things about her life that hadn’t even crossed his mind, and he felt guilty for not somehow saving her from bartending at the Roadhouse. He joked that maybe they should run off, start a family, and try to learn how to be unbroken together. Their laughter faded to sadness when the realization of how trapped they were settled in.

She pressed her lips to him once more when reality got too loud. 

They promised they wouldn’t talk about it. They promised it would never happen again. But just one more time felt so good.

 

 


End file.
